


A Strange Coincidence

by ShenanigansEnsue



Series: Shenanigans and Imagines [65]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShenanigansEnsue/pseuds/ShenanigansEnsue
Summary: You’re a student who just moved to New York City to finish your PhD in Archeology.  But, things turn for the strange when you accidentally stumble upon 177a Bleecker Street.





	1. Chapter 1

          It was official, you were lost.

          You let out an annoyed sigh of frustration as you wandered down the row of houses.  It was the middle of the night in New York City.  You had only just moved there to finish your PDH.  It was going to be a huge adventure.  But, as the sky rumbled above you, you were starting to feel like it was a mistake.  

          Of course, your phone had run out of juice, so you couldn’t use the GPS.  It was your own fault.  You were so tired the night before, you forgot to charge it.  You looked down the street, hoping for some kind of sign.  You were on Bleecker Street, you knew that much.  It didn’t do you much good, but you had a street name.  

          It was at that very moment, the sky opened up.  You ran for cover, running up the stairs towards the nearest doorway you could find.  It didn’t matter.  You were completely soaked through, and water was still dripping from the sill above your head.  

          You leaned your back against the doorway, letting out a shuttered breath to keep yourself from crying.  Nothing else could possibly make the situation worse. And then, the door went out from under you.

          You let out a yelp of surprise as you fell flat on your back in the entry way. You shook your head, ready with an apology on your lips to whoever had opened the door, only to stop.  There was no one there.  You sat up, taking a look around the space.  

          You were on the floor of a giant foyer. Behind you was a large stair case leading up to a second floor which broke off on both sides.  The walls were covered in various weapons and strange looking tapestries. Giant vases, statues and other such decorations were scattered around the floor.  It made you wonder if you had accidentally stumbled into some kind of museum.  

          You rose to your feet, looking up and around for somebody.

          “Hello?” you called.  

          Something fluttered out of the corner on your eye.  Whipping around, you found nothing; only a red cloak draped over a single coat hanger. You stared at it in confusion.  You thought for sure you had seen something.

          “Who are you?” a voice demanded.

          You spun around again, to see a man standing at the top of the stair case. He was rather handsome, in a distinguished, older gentleman kind of way. His dark hair was streaked with white along the temples.  His face was long with high cheekbones and narrow blue eyes you could make out even at a distance.  What struck you as odd was his attire; layered blue robes, blue pants, boots, and a large eye shaped pendent around his neck.

          “How did you get in here?” he asked.

          You felt your cheeks go hot in embarrassment.  Breaking and entering was not something you needed on your record after only being in town for a week.

          “I was standing in your doorway to get out of the rain,” you said.  Your voice was shaking, you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or your own nerves.  “I guess I leaned too hard against the doorway, and it gave way.”

          The man gave you a suspicious look.  You couldn’t blame him.  You wouldn’t have believed you either.  His eyes then trailed to something behind you.  You thought at first, he was inspecting the door, but it wasn’t the case at all.  He was eyeing the cloak. You turned back around to find his expression had changed from one of hostility to curiosity.

          “Who are you,” he repeated.  All intimidation had faded from his voice, and you immediately relaxed.

          “Y/F/N, Y/F/N Y/L/N,” you said.

          “And why are you here?”

          You let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders.  “I got lost. I was hanging out at a friend’s house and lost track of time. I thought I could walk back to campus, but my phone died and, well…”

          He nodded in understanding. “Do you need me to call you a cab?”

          You almost cried in relief.  “If I could borrow a phone.”

          It didn’t take him long to track down a phone, or for you to find a cab in the area.  

          “Thank you,” you said, gratefully.  “And, I’m sorry, again for barging in.”

          “It’s fine,” he assured.  “Trust me, weirder people than you have stumbled in here.”

          You smiled in appreciation, before looking around the space once more. “What exactly is this place,” you asked.

          “It’s…old money,” he said, carefully.  “Me and a few others watch over it.”

          “Like a curator?”

          “Something like that.”  He wore an odd smile on his face, as if you stumbled onto an inside joke.  Before you could ask what, he meant, a honk came from outside the door.

          “You better be off,” he said.

          You nodded in agreement and started toward the door, only to stop just before you walked out.

          “I never got your name,” you said, turning to him.

          The man paused, and you wondered, for a moment, if he would even answer you.

          “Strange,” he said, with a half-smile on his lips. “Doctor Stephen Strange.”

          You couldn’t help but smile at the name.  It suited him.  

          “It was nice to meet you Doctor Strange.”

          And with that, you left, wondering if you would ever see him again.  Little did you know, he was thinking the same thing.

          “You did that on purpose, didn’t you,” he said, as soon as the door closed behind you.  

          The Cloak of Levitation gave an innocent shrug.

          “Don’t give me that,” he chastised.  “You can’t just let anyone in here on a whim.”

          If it was possible for a piece of fabric to roll its eyes, the cloak did just that as it settled itself on its master’s shoulders.

          “We’re never going to see them again anyway,” he said.  “No point dwelling on it.”

          But even as the words left his lips, he didn’t believe them.  He had studied the mystic arts long enough, to no longer believe in coincidence.  He would, most likely, see you again.  What you would become to him, only time could tell.


	2. Chapter 2

         Strange did his best to forget you. But, as the week ticked by, he realized it was easier said than done.  He cited the unusual circumstances as the cause.  People did not simply wander into the Sanctum.  All of them, for good or for ill, had a purpose.  You had yet to reveal yours, and it was driving him mad. 

         He had caught himself pacing the upper levels; often with a book in hand or simply examining the relics, but always within sight of the door.  Wong had asked him more than once if he was expecting somebody, and each time, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.  He was reaching a point where Wong requesting a sandwich from the local deli felt like a God send.  At least it got him out of the Sanctum and out of his own head, for a little while.

         Walking down the streets of New York was a bit of a culture shock every time he did it.  He now so rarely left Kamar-taj, that standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk in one of the most urban cities in the word felt like he was on a different planet. It was strange to think it was his life, not so long ago.  He knew he could never truly go back, but, it was still nice to visit now and again.

         There was a bit of a line at the deli when he got there as the lunch hour was just starting to pick up.  The wait didn’t both him. It was so perfectly normal, he felt a small relief in it.

         The door chimed in a steady pace behind him, he barely registered who was coming in and out.  Until, someone called to him.

         “Doctor Strange?”

         He stiffened, his hands clenching inside his pockets, ready for a fight. But the instinct faded the moment he felt it.  He knew that voice.

         He turned to see you standing behind him with one earbud in your ear, and a surprised smile on your face.

         “Y/N,” he said, your name coming easily to his lips. A million thoughts and questions raced through his mind at seeing you, but none of them made it past his throat. All he seemed able to manage was a stunned.  “Hi.”

         “Hi,” you said, with an expression that matched his own.  You fumbled slightly with your phone as you pulled the earbud out of your ear.  “You didn’t strike me as the deli type.”

         “What can I say? I’m layered,” he said, dryly. His mind was only just coming to terms with the fact you were in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

         You gave a small shrug as an embarrassed look crossed your features.

         “My friend lives near here,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the door. “We were doing a study session and she told me to come here.  Apparently, they’re the best sandwiches in Manhattan.”

         Strange nodded in understanding.  “Well, she’s not wrong.”

         It was then the man behind the countered called him forward.

         “One Ruben on rye, and one tuna melt,” he ordered.

         “Can you make that two tuna melts and a club sandwich on sourdough,” you said, before pulling out your wallet.

         Stephen’s brows furrowed at the gesture.  “You don’t have to do that.”

          “I want to.”

         “One Ruben, one club, two tuna melts,” the man repeated.

         “That’s right.”

         “That’s _not_ right,” Strange insisted. “You’re a student, aren’t you?  You’re supposed to be broke.”

         “I live in New York.  I can’t afford to be broke,” you countered, handing your card over the counter before Strange could protest any further.  The man behind the counter took it, giving you a small smile at your victory. You then turned back to Stephen, with a slightly pleading look. “Consider it a thank you for not throwing me out in the rain the other night.”

         Strange wanted to press the point but realized it would be no use.

         “You’re welcome,” he said, still feeling a little guilty. “You weren’t just paying for me.”

         “I figured.”

         There was a pause.  The silence lingered as neither of you knew what to say with each other.  Strange doubted the reason you stumbled into the Sanctum was just to buy him and Wong a sandwich, but he had no idea how to approach the topic.  And, considering your introduction to him, he could only guess as to what you were thinking.

         “I made this weird, didn’t I?” you finally asked.

         “No,” he said, quickly. “I just didn’t think I’d see you again.”

         A lie, but better than the truth.  While some part of him knew he’d see you again, he thought it would be on his territory.  Then, he could have a plan, or, at least, know what questions to ask.

         “Me neither,” you admitted, before shrugging. “Small world I guess.”

         “Yeah,” Strange mumbled, “small world.”

         Thankfully, your orders were called before another silence could settle in.  You each grabbed your bags and made your way out of the deli.  As soon as you stepped outside, you turned and gave him a small smile, as goodbye.

         He returned the gesture, feeling his stomach sink. It wasn’t how he wanted to end his meeting with you.  He still had so many unanswered questions, but, it was more than that.  Something he couldn’t name tugged in the back of his mind telling him not to go. It was an unusual feeling.  One he couldn’t recall experiencing before.  

         He ignored it as best he could, turning to walk towards the Sanctum.  He got barely three paces before noticing you were walking alongside him.  You both stopped in your tracks, turning to face each other.

         “You’re headed the same way?” he questioned. 

         “Yeah,” you said.  The embarrassment was clear on your face.  Maybe it was simply the fact you weren’t completely soaked to the bone, but, at that moment, you struck him as utterly adorable.

         “Of course, I could always just pull out my phone and pretend I got a text for a few minutes to give you a head start,” you offered.

         Strange smiled. “Or we could just, walk in the same direction for a while.”

         You shot him a surprised look, but it quickly dissipated into an odd half-smile. “Or we could do that.”

         You turned back up the sidewalk, walking side by side.  The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as awkward as before, but a tension still remained in the air.  Stephen didn’t know what it was exactly, but he knew he would have to be the one to break it.  

         “So, you are a student,” he said.  He had never been a fan of small talk, but it seemed like his only option.

         “Indeed, I am,” you said.

         “What are you studying?”

         “I’m actually finishing up my PHD in Archeology.”

         There was a clear sense of pride in your voice, which brought a small smile to his face. He remembered all too well the late nights, and the stressed induced mania that came with getting his own doctorate. His devotion to medicine and pushed him through it, and he had no doubt your own passion was motivating you through yours.  

         “A regular Indiana Jones then,” he quipped.

         “More like a Henry Jones senior,” you countered, wryly. “Honestly, I spend most of my days in the library deciphering dead languages scribbled on broken pottery.”

         “So, you’d be the one decoding the ancient forbidden text that brings about the apocalypse?”

         “That’s exactly the aesthetic I was going for.  I’m glad you picked up on that.”

         Strange let out a small laugh.  So, you were smart and funny.  He now had two solid facts about you.  

         “How much school do you have left?” he asked.

         “Only one year.  I just transferred.”

         His brow furrowed in confusion.  “Why transfer? Seems like it would break up your momentum.”

         “Not really.” You shrugged. “New York homes some of the finest museums in the United States. It makes researching a lot easier.  That and I have friends here.”  

         He nodded, but it still didn’t quite add up.  “But considering…”

         “The whole alien invasion thing?” you finished. “My parents hit me with that one too. I don’t know.  I guess you can’t consider it an adventure without risks.”

         He admitted defeat at that.  Clearly, you were determined. If the prospect of another battle of New York didn’t deter you, nothing would.  But, it still didn’t explain why you had shown up on his door.  

         “Okay, my turn,” you said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re a doctor, correct?”

         “I am.”

         “So, are you a doctor of academia or medicine?”

         “Both, technically,” he said, allowing some of his own pride to shine through. “I was a neurosurgeon.”

         “Was?”

         He paused, wincing at his mistake. Moments like these, he wished he was a better liar.

         On the other hand, a simple google search of his name would tell you his entire backstory up until the accident.  It was best to be honest with you.  Besides, the idea of lying to you felt wrong, for some reason.  

         Carefully, he pulled his free hand from out of his sweatshirt pockets, showing it to you.  You stared at it in stunned silence.  On instinct, your hand went out to meet it, but you stopped yourself before you could make contact. He watched your gaze as you examined the surgical scars and shaking fingers. To his surprise, there was no repulsion in your eyes.

         “I lost the touch,” he explained, dryly.  “Car accident.”

         “I’m sorry,” you said.  It was an automatic response, but one with no shortage of sympathy.

         He shrugged it off.  “It happened a long time ago.”

         “Well, you seem to be doing alright,” you said, offering a kind smile.

         “Trust me, I wasn’t for a while.”

         You nodded, but didn’t press him for an explanation, for which he was grateful. He was surprised he told you that much.

         “Okay,” you said carefully. “So, how does a former neurosurgeon become a curator of a random old home in New York that makes him dresses like a blue monk on the weekends.”

         He huffed out a laugh at your description.  So, that was impression he had left you with.

         “Who says it’s just the weekends?” he countered, giving you a sideways smile.

         You rolled your eyes, clearly wise to his game.

         “C’mon, you have to give me something.”

         “Hmm, no I don’t.”

         “I bought you lunch.”

         “And that makes us even.”

         You let out a huff of annoyance, but you knew he had won. He grinned in triumph just as you were approaching 177a Bleecker Street.  Without another word, he turned up towards the staircase, leaving you at the bottom.

         “I’m going to get it out of you eventually,” you promised.

         “I wouldn’t count on it.”

         “I’m an archeologist, it’s my job to find secrets buried in old relics.”

         He hand went instinctively to the grey at his temples as he turned to you. You wore a teasing smile, with humor shining in your eyes.  Before he could say anything smart, you shot him a wink and walked up the street.  You got a good five paces before his mouth finally caught up with his brain.

         “I’m thirty-five!”

         “Old relic!”

         He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.  He kept his eye on you until you were out of sight, his mind coming to a new understanding. He was going to see you again, and that knowledge alone brought him peace. Your purpose would reveal itself in due time.  There was no rush.  

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

 

           This wasn’t stalking.  It was just a background check.  Nothing weird about that. It may even be considered normal in this digital age. 

           Those were the sentiments you kept repeating to yourself as you scoured the internet for any mention of a Stephen Strange.

           You normally didn’t do this.  But, his refusal to give you any straight answers drove you to drastic measures. All your searches about the mysterious 177a Bleecker Street came up dry. According to Google it was nothing but another fancy corner townhouse in Manhattan.  No mention of an eccentric billionaire turning it into a museum. Not even some local legend or haunting. All you had to go on was its one known occupant.  And Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange was exactly as he had described himself.

           He had been a neurosurgeon.  Article upon article testified to his proficiency in that arena. The number of medical journals which either featured his work or mentioned his name could make up a list the length of your arm. He had even developed a new method of surgery. Everything in his life seemed like it was going for him, until it didn’t.

           You found the news article covering his accident easily enough.  In didn’t go into full detail other than the fact he had survived, but with severe nerve damage.  And after that, there was nothing.  He didn’t use social media, even before the crash.  The only thing he had was a Facebook page which hadn’t been updated in almost five years.

           The leap from the man in the articles and the one standing above a staircase in blue robes was large one.  Something happened between then and now, which you knew could only be explained by that damned address.  You couldn’t figure out the man without discovering the truth of the building and you couldn’t figure out the building without discovering the truth of the man. It was maddening and left you with a deep seeded need to see the good Doctor again.  

          “What are you doing?” a voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

           You jumped in surprise, as you friend, Liz, laughed in response.  Liz was your go to study partner even if she had finished school years ago.  She was always an understanding presence and a nice break from the white noise of student activity near campus.  She also was the only real friend you had in New York.  You had met during your freshman year of college and had stayed in touch even after she went to NYU.    

           “Just taking a break,” you said, quickly moving to close your tabs.  

           Liz was faster.  Before you could even blink, she was over the couch, sitting comfortably beside you with your laptop in her lap.

           “Damn Y/N, didn’t know you to go for a sugar daddy,” she commented, scrolling through the articles.  “Little odd looking, isn’t he?”

           “He’s not odd looking,” you blurted out, immediately regretting the word choice the moment you said it. You could feel your cheeks go hot, as you did your best to recover.  “And I don’t.”

           Liz ignored you, shouting idly into the next room. “Jason! Settle something for us.”

           Jason, Liz’s fiancé, wandered in from the kitchen.  She lifted the laptop to him, allowing him a good view of Doctor Strange’s photograph.

           “This guy,” she asked, “yay or nay?”

           “Pass, but I’d let him buy me a drink first,” Jason said, shrugging. “Why? Planning on cheating on me?”

           “Not for me.  For Y/N.”

           He raised an eyebrow, leaning down over Liz’s shoulder to get a better view of the screen.

           “Doctor Stephen Strange,” he read aloud. His eyes drifted up to you.  “Y/N, please tell me he’s not a professor.”

           “Apparently he’s surgeon,” Liz corrected with a smile.

           Jason gave a surprised, but impressed look as he nodded in approval.

           “Okay, that’s enough,” you snapped, snatching back your laptop.  “He’s not a sugar daddy and it’s not that kind of research.”  

           “Who asked if he was a sugar daddy?” Jason questioned.

           “I did,” Liz said.

           “For shame,” he gasped.  “We both know Y/N is a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man.”

           You were too exhausted by the conversation to reply with anything more than a, “thank you”.

           “But,” he continued, “if you do need a sugar daddy, I know plenty of highfalutin lawyers around the city who could use the company.”

           You let out a long groan, sinking further into the couch. “I’m going to need you to stop talking now.”

           Jason grinned, taking a position behind Liz and casually leaning his chin on her shoulder.

           “But seriously,” Liz asked.  “Who is this guy?”

           You opened your mouth to answer, but stopped yourself.  You hadn’t told either of them about the night you had stumbled into 177a Bleeker Street.  For some reason, you felt like you weren’t allowed to speak of it, like you had accidentally peaked behind the curtain of a magic show and had gotten a glimpse of how the trick was done.  It wasn’t your secret to tell, but it was your mystery to solve.

           “I got into a conversation with him at the deli,” you said carefully.  “I guess he just, sparked my curiosity.”

           “Uh huh,” Liz said, unimpressed.  Even Jason looked like he had his doubts.

           You let out a long sigh.  “Look, I don’t have time to get into it. It’s nothing weird, I promise.”  You phone beeped at that moment, warning you that you had twenty minutes to get to work.  “And that’s my cue,” you said, packing your bag. “I’ll see you guys later.”

           Jason gave you a little wave, while Liz still looked a little put out.

           “We’re finishing this conversation later,” she called.

           “Yes mom!”

           You breathed a sigh of relief as you walked out of the building.  You loved Liz and Jason, but having to constantly remind them that you were off the dating marked could get tiresome.

          They had met in law school and clicked the moment they met.  The only reason they didn’t get married within a week of knowing each other, was their focus on their own careers.  But now, they were settled, and planning for a spring wedding.  They were happy.  And so, naturally, wanted their friends to find that same happiness.  Especially if said friend hadn’t had a boyfriend in over two years.

           You tried not to focus on that fact, and brought yourself back to the present moment.  It was then you finally realized your feet were taking you slightly out of your way from your destination.  It was happening so often as of late, and you had long given up on fighting it. The houses and trees were growing more familiar until you were standing across from 177a Bleecker Street.

           Now this, felt unapologetically like stalking, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had stopped more than once to stare at the door, looking for some flaw in the design.  There was absolutely no reason why that door should have failed. Someone or, possibly something, had let you in.  

           A part of you felt the need to cross the street, throw open the door, and demand Doctor Strange tell you what the hell was going on.  As soon as you felt it, however, the urge would die.  The sensation both frustrated and fascinated you. It tapped into some childlike part of your brain; the monster won’t get you if your feet are under the covers, step in the center of the tile to avoid cracks, and don’t knock on the front door unless you know exactly what lay beyond it.  

           There was also, a small part of you, that hoped you would see Doctor Strange. Yes, it would give you a chance to ask more questions, but you found you rather enjoyed his company for the short time you had.  He certainly had his own charm and dry sense of humor which left a smile on your face. Even if you couldn’t get all the answers you wanted, you had a feeling you and Doctor Strange could become friends.

           You forced yourself forward before your staring could become too obvious.  You would see him, one day, you just had to be patient. 

* * *

           Ten minutes later, and slightly out of breath, you were walking through the back door of the Museum of Mythology and Mysticism.

           It was a new museum, having opened only two years after the Battle of New York. Loki and Thor’s involvement had sparked new interested in Norse Mythology and other ancient religions around the world.  The Norse exhibit was still the most popular, bringing thousands of tourist through its doors.  The owners had hoped Thor could be present at the opening, but the god had refused stating he “wasn’t actually present during many of the events described”.

           Other wings had opened as well, gathering artifacts from across the world. Everything from statues once found in ancient Greece to pottery from the ruins of the Inca Empire could be found there. This included tablets and writings from ancient Mesopotamia, your decided field of study.  It wasn’t nearly as popular as the Norse or Egyptian sections, but, that also made your job as curator easier by comparison. You could spend less time providing tours, and more time studying the relics on display.

           “Welcome back to the tomb, Y/N.”

           You huffed out a laugh, giving a small wave to Jimmy, the security guard.

           “Hey Jim, anyone else in?”

           “Nope, looks like you might be the only one here today.”

           You nodded.  You thought as much.  Many of the professors were getting adjusted to the new work load of the school year, which left everyone else to cover tour duties.  

           “Alright, just let me know if they need me upstairs.”

           “Will do.”

           You smiled in thanks and made your way to your work station.

           Giving the basement of the museum the title of tomb, was not one born of exaggeration.  Many of the artifacts studied were taken from burial mounds from across the globe. Add in shoddy electrical work from the museum’s sped up construction and deafly quiet atmosphere, and you were left with a setting from a horror movie. The illusion was cracked a little by the fast wifi, and personal calendars lining each work station, but the principal remained.

           You found your usual spot with your notes and translations neatly organized around you.  The piece you had been examining the night before, hadn’t moved. It was part of an ancient statue, the origins of which were unknown.  From what you had been able to translate so far, it hinted at an off shoot of the Sumerian religion, referencing to some being which had yet to be named. A smile spread across your face, as your settled in and allowed your mind to be transported into the past. This is where you excelled.  Piecing together fragment of information to create a picture no one had seen in 6,000 years.    

* * *

           It was easy to forget what time it was down in the tomb.  There were no clocks on the wall or windows to indicate its passage.  Only the steadily growing pile of notes gave an indication to how long you’d been there.

          You were making head way.  A picture of a cult like religion around a being refereed to as the Nameless One, began to surface.  What, exactly, the Nameless One represented was still unclear, but you were staring to get some clues.  Unfortunately, with many artifacts of it’s age, sand and general wear had scratched away at the precise lettering.  You were basically guessing and checking at the translation. Only the sound of subtle footsteps pulled you out of your mind.  

            “Um, Y/N,” Jimmy asked softly, so not to startle you. “Can I ask a favor?”

           You turned in your seat, giving him a reassuring smile.  “Sure, what is it?”

           “Would you mind if I leave the keys with you until Dale gets here?  It’s just, I’ve got an essay to write and a 9:00 AM class tomorrow and Dale is running late and I don’t know—”

           “It’s okay,” you said, cutting him off before he hurt himself. “I’ll probably be here for a couple more hours any way.  What time is it?”

           “It’s 9:30 ma’am,” he said, sheepishly.

           Your brow furrowed in confusion, as you pulled out your phone.  It was, indeed, 9:30 PM.  As if waiting for its cue, your stomach rumbled reminding you, you hadn’t eaten since your late breakfast with Liz.  

           “Do you want me to wait until you get something it eat?” Jim offered.

           You shook your head. “I’ll survive.  I know I’ve got a sandwich buried in the fridge somewhere.  You go. Work, sleep, educate yourself.”

           Jimmy was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.  He grinned in appreciation, dropped his keys on your desk, and sprinted to the exit before you could change your mind.  

           You chuckled lightly, reaching down to the little mini fridge below your desk. You took the time to look over your translation as you chewed on the half a sandwich you found there.

           The sentence you were stuck on was an incantation of some kind.  From what you could gather, it allowed the caster to service the Nameless One in some way.  You were still working out how this deity was meant to help the caster, but the wording of the caster being a vessel seemed odd to you. Normally in these sorts of rituals, the caster was looking for something equivalent to a miracle.  

          You hummed in frustration.  If you could figure out the name of the being they were trying to summon, then you could work your way backwards to what the Nameless One was supposed to do.

           Putting down your food, you read aloud your translation.

           “Through the darkness I call to you, for purpose.  Through the sky I beg for salvation.  I offer my body.  I offer my skin and flesh and bone.  I summon you…”

           You stopped, at the lack of a name. You had it right there, but the translation to your own language eluded you.

           In pure desperation, you looked at the tablet and began reading it aloud, this time in the writing’s native tongue.

           “Through the darkness I call to you, for purpose.  Through the sky I beg for salvation.  I offer my body.  I offer my skin and flesh and bone.  I summon you… _Dorgrath_.”

           A chill went up your spine as you said the name.  A slight breeze rustled the papers around you and the lights flickered overhead.  The part of you that had seen too many movies twitched in fear, but logic overruled it. You heard a slight creek down the hallway.  Dale much have opened the door, letting a draft in.

           “I’m down here,” you called out.  “Jimmy left me the keys.”

           There was a beat, and no reply.  A small tingling sensation permeated at the back of your neck; as if somebody was watching you.  You let out a breath.  Your heart rated started to rise.  Something primal urged you to run.  It was at that moment, the lights went out.

           It took everything in you not to scream.  Hands shaking, you grabbed your phone.  You heart was now pounding in your ears.  Somehow, you managed to turn on the flashlight.

           “Hello?”

           You didn’t care who called back.  You just needed to know you were not alone.  Silence answered you question.  

           Carefully, you stood from your chair, and made your way slowly toward the light switch.

           “Dale! I’m still down here!” you yelled.

           You knew Dale wasn’t there, but pretending he was made you feel better.  The feeling of being watched grew.  It made your hair stand on end and your breathing to become more erratic. You quickened your pace.

           Practically tripping over your feet, you reached the light.  Your hands were sweating.  Your senses were on edge.  Every creak. Every rustle.  Every little movement reverberated in your ears.

          The light was already on.  Begging to whoever would listen, you switched in off and back on again.

           Nothing happened.

           You tried again.

           Darkness.

           You could feel tears building in your eyes. Fear overwhelmed you. You flicked the lights on and off over and over and over again only for nothing to happen each time.  You let out a shuttered breath, pressing your hand against the wall for support.

           Your legs were shaking. You needed to breath.  There was nothing out there.  Nothing was in the tomb besides you.  

           You repeated the thought over and over again in your mind turning it into a mantra.  Eventually, you began to believe it.  

           You would go back to your desk.  You would grab your stuff and tell the owners the lights weren’t working in the morning. You were calm.

           You pushed yourself back into a standing position. Your legs shook, but not as violently as before.  Your heart had finally returned to a jogging pace.  You breathed and turned.

          The light of your phone fell upon a figure, the likes of which your mind failed to comprehend.

           It didn’t even give you time to scream


	4. Chapter 4

         Dorgrath blinked awake into the darkness.  The skin containing it felt strange.  It stretched inside the body, growing accustomed to the strain and limitations of flesh and bone.  It sat up, finally taking a good look at its new form.  

         Human, with all the corresponding limbs and eyes intact.  It grimaced.  It would have hoped for something more useful.  But, it would do.  

_What’s happening?_ a voice echoed.   _Where am I?_

         Dorgrath cocked the human’s head to the side in confusion.  The soul of this one was not surrendering.  Granted it had been some time since Dorgrath had been summoned to Earth, but the vessels had been willing; at least, at the start.  It was later their screams would resound before dying completely.  This did not bother Dorgrath.  The screams would last longer now.

         Dorgrath stood.  The space was unfamiliar.  The statue was not there.  No fires or sacrifices.  It walked back through the darkness, shuffling through the human’s memories.  

         The human was a scholar of some kind.  It didn’t believe Dorgrath was real. Dorgrath laughed, and the human inside shuttered.  

         Upon reaching its desk, it found the statue.  Or rather, what was left of it. Dorgrath lifted the broken remains to its eyes, burning just as fiercely as its anger.

         “Useless!” Dorgrath’s voice mixed with the human’s, creating an unholy sound that shook the table.  How could Dorgrath summon its siblings and finally the Unnamed One without the rest?

         It gripped the table, riffling the human’s memories with knew found speed. There had to be something.  If the human had found the statue, surely it must know more.  

         The image of a building made Dorgrath pause.  The symbol on the top widow, stirred its own memory.  There was a door. Dorgrath pushed further, revealing a man in blue robes standing on a stair case, with the eye of Agamotto draped around his neck.

         “Sorcerer,” it purred, as a cruel grin, foreign to the human spread across its face.  

_No!_ the human screamed, but Dorgrath gave it little mind.  

         With new purpose, the being gathered the remains of the statue and what else it could find.  Another search through the human’s memory gave it a location.  The human continued to scream and pound against Dorgrath’s inside demanding to be let out.  Dorgrath only laughed.

* * *

         “You’re doing it again,” Wong said.

         “What?”

         “Waiting for someone.”

         Strange wanted to argue with him, but he knew he was right. He was leaning against the glass of the large round window overlooking New York, or, more specifically, the street below.

         It had started two weeks ago, just after his odd meeting with you at the deli. He was passing by the window when he had spotted you across the street staring at the building.  He watched you, waiting to see if you would cross the street before you inevitably walked the other direction toward the University.

         Every few days, you would pass by the building, pause and walk away.

         A part of him was grateful you never came to the door.  He wasn’t sure what lies he could tell you to explain the Sanctum. He couldn’t tell you the truth.  If he did, you would think he was crazy, and if he did convince you it was real, what then? Knowledge of the mystic arts came with its own consequences and sacrifices, ones you had no understanding of.  

         It was different when he had stumbled upon it.  He was a broken man, with nothing left to lose.  The Sanctum gave him new purpose.  You had friends, a family.  You were taking your first steps towards a career you were passionate about, and your whole life ahead of you. This wasn’t a place for you.

         But another part of him, one he didn’t fully recognize, took him to the window and patiently waited for you to knock on door.

         “I don’t know what I’m waiting for,” Strange admitted, pushing himself away from the window.

         “I take, it has to do with the girl at least,” Wong commented.

         A flash of embarrassment twisted at Strange’s insides, but he pushed it down with a confused look.  “What girl?”

         Wong was not deterred and motioned to the window. “The one on the corner. Who is she?”

         Strange let out a sigh.  He really wasn’t a good liar.  “I don’t know.  I’ve only talked to her twice, but… I don’t know.  There’s just something.”

         “Good things come to those who wait,” Wong said, his voice making the statement sound deeper than it actually was.

         “Yeah, yeah, and a watched pot never boils, any more ancient wisdoms you’d like to share,” Strange said dryly.

         “You could not be a stubborn idiot and just go talk to her if it’s bothering you so much.”

         It was at that moment; a knock came at the door.  

         “Or,” Wong said, “you can just answer the door.”

         Genuine confusion was Strange’s first reaction. It couldn’t possibly be you at this hour.  But, as he made his way down the stairs, he heard your voice on the other side.

         “Doctor Strange! Please—"

         His mind sharpened into focus, and his body stiffened for a fight. Without thinking, he opened the door.  The moment he did, he realized his mistake.

         Your body was held at odd angles, like something was crawling just beneath your skin, wearing you like an ill-fitting suit. Your eyes were yellow, and your smile was cruel.  

         He raised his hands in defense.  They didn’t make it past his sides, before he was blasted back hard against the stair case by a force of black light.  His head pounded. He tried to get his bearings as the thing wearing your face, strolled into the Sanctum.  

         Wong caught what was going on and immediately jumped into action, teleporting to the foyer, shields already up.

         “What is your purpose here,” Wong demanded.

         The creature didn’t answer.  It crouched into an attack position before springing on Wong.  It knocked him to the ground. Pitch black claws appeared to extend from your hands, clawing at the man’s shield like a wild animal.  Wong managed to push it off.

         It rolled to your feet, letting out a primal snarl. Its eyes darted to Wong then Strange, who was finally rising to his feet. It looked up, seeing the relics the floor above. It ran to the side of the room, clawing its way up to the wood and curtains until it was up and over the banister.

         “Could she do that before?” Wong asked, helping Strange to his feet.

         “Not that I’m aware of, no,” he quipped, quickly forming a portal to the top of the stairs.

         It was making its way through the collection, clearly looking for something.

         “Hey!”

         It turned, shifting into a defensive position at the sight of the sorcerer.  

         “My friend asked you a question earlier,” Strange said.  “What is your purpose here?”

         “That is no business of yours, sorcerer,” it said.

         He winced at the sound.  It was your voice but twisted into something unrecognizable.  It wasn’t the same voice as the one at the door.  Which meant, you still had to be in there.  

         “I think it is,” he continued. “Let the woman go, and we can come to some arrangement.”

         “I don’t negotiate with lesser beings,” it snarled.  It sent another blast of black light towards Strange.

         The sorcerer managed to get his shield up in time, sliding back against the floor by its force. He lowered the shield to get a look at the creature, only to see it running further into the Sanctum.  

         Strange created a whip, catching the creature by the ankle and dragged it back towards him.  

         Black claws extended from i’s hands, digging into the wood. It managed to get some leverage, twisting it’s leg a few times around the whip and yanked it out of Strange’s grip.

         Before he could react, a dark fog enveloped him. He couldn’t see more than three feet ahead of him in any direction.  He put his shields up, ready for an attack at any angle.

         A hand gripped at his leg, yanking him out of the fog and hard down on the floor. Strange’s head reeled form the impact, hardly getting his bearings when a hard pressure came to his throat.

         “Insect,” the creature growled, clamping its grip hard on Strange’s neck.

         Strange pulled at its arms, but it was clear the creature was much stronger than him.  Its yellow eyes bore down at him, taking a glee at feeling the life leave his body. But then it stopped.

         The creature paused, its head twisting from side to side. It pulled away from Strange, half stumbling, half crawling across the floor.  Its body began to breath raggedly, as it lay on the floor. Strange watched it in stunned silence before its eyes found his once more.  

         “Doctor Strange?”

         It was you.  The yellow had gone from your eyes.  Your voice had returned to normal and you were utterly terrified.

         “What’s happening?”

         You were shaking.  You looked down at your hands as if expecting to see the claws suddenly appear again. Looking around, you saw the damage already done.

         “Oh God.  Oh God, what did I do?” Your breathing became panicked, coming in and out in shallow and sharp.  You tried to get to your feet, but only made in as far as your knees. You let out a cry of pain as you whole body bent over.  Your hands clinging to your skull as tears ran down your face.

         “Something’s in my head,” you cried.  “There something in my head.  Please, God! Get it out of my head!”

         Strange moved toward you.

         “Y/N,” he said, gently.

         Your head snapped up, eyes yellow once more as the creature took hold. It’s hand glowed with a black aura ready to attack, when a rush of red fabric swooped in.

         The Cloak of Levitation wrapping itself around you, pinning your arms to your sides. The creature let out a crazed growl. Rising to its feet, it tore and pulled at the confines.  It’s super human strength gave it enough leverage to claw at the fabric, finally breaking free.  

         Its eyes turned on Strange, taking a step forward, only to stop.  Binds were now around its wrist, pulling it down to its knees. Its head whisked around, to find Wong standing behind it, pushing his hands down making it sink further to the floor.  While it were occupied Strange formed a seal above its head, effectively pinning it to the spot.  He may not had known the creatures name, but he knew a demon when he saw it.

         “Are you ready to negotiate now?” Strange asked the creature.  

         It bit and snarled at its restraints.

         “Release me sorcerer!” 

         “No, I don’t think so.  Speak your name.”

         It didn’t say anything, staring up at him in defiance.  Strange lowered the seal over the demon’s head, causing it to cry out in pain.

         “Dorgrath!”

         “And what master do you serve?”

         “One who will bring the death of you,” Dorgrath said with ragged breath.

         “Him and every other half-baked god in the universe,” Strange dismissed, growing tired of the demon’s delusions of grandeur. “Now, I’ll ask again.  What master do you serve?”

         Dorgrath grinned, holding itself tall despite the restraints.

         “The Unnamed One.”

         Strange didn’t recognize the name.  He looked to Wong for an answer.  Wong looked just as confused as he was.  Clearly, this required further research.

         He turned back to the demon, and the face it was using.  A more pressing matter came to the forefront.

         “And why did you take this host,” Strange asked.

         “It spoke the words.”  Dorgrath said it almost casually, it may have even shrugged if not for the restraints.

         “But not of purpose. She’s fighting you.  You’re not used to that.”

         The demon’s expression darkened.

         A sense of pride tugged at Strange at the sight.  He had to wonder how much trouble you were really giving is supposed superior being.

         “It is nothing,” it bit out. “You are nothing.”

“          That’s rich, considering just how desperate you had to be to come here. What did you think was going to happen?”

         “I am a loyal servant. The Unnamed One gave me a true name to service him. My siblings will wreak havoc on this world, paving the way for his arrival. Even if I fail here, the link has been formed.  More will come.  More will crawl and claw their way into this realm.  Nothing you can do to stop it.”

         Strange stiffened at the threat, but he didn’t let it cross his face. There was nothing more the demon could say to him, that he could find on his own.

         “We’ll see about that.”

         With a gesture of his hands, the seal dropped.  

         A great scream erupted from Dorgrath’s throat. Dark smoke poured from the tips of your fingers and hair, pouring out from your mouth and eyes sinking into the lines of the seal before disappearing entirely.

         The bonds at your wrist fell away.  With nothing left to support you, you collapsed to the ground.  

         Strange was beside you in an instant.  He placed his fingers to your neck, breathing a sigh of relief at finding a pulse.

         A small groan escaped your lips.

         Strange backed away, enough to give you some air as your head rolled to the side. It was a slow process, but soon enough your eyes found his. They were bright, clear and free from the demon’s influence.

         “Doctor,” you said, roughly.

         “You’re alright,” he assured.  “It’s gone now.”

         You didn’t seem to register his words completely. You moved to sit up.  Strange helped you, keeping a hand at your back to support you.

         “Just take it easy,” he said. “We don’t know what damage it might have left behind.”

         You nodded, as your body began to slump against him.  You head landed on his shoulder and your eyes struggled to stay open.

         “What happened?”

         He didn’t answer right away, looking up to Wong for some kind of answer. The man only gave him an uncertain expression. He understood then, the waiting was over.  There was no hiding the truth from you now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you like this, check out my tumblr @ https://shenanigans-and-imagines.tumblr.com
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you are so inclined.


	5. Chapter 5

           You liked to think you understood the basics on how the world worked.  Time moved linearly.  If you tossed an apple into the air, it would, inevitably, come back down to the earth. There wasn’t really a monster in the closet. But, as you sat in the library of what you now understood to be the Sanctum Santorum, you began to comprehend how little you actually knew.               

          “Here,” Wong said, “drink this. It will help.”

           You looked up at the man, and the cup of tea he held in his hands.  Smiling in thanks, you reached out to take it. It was only then you noticed how badly your hands were shaking.

You held the cup tighter so not to spill as you raised it to your lips.  Your heart still raced, and there was a dull ache in your muscles, but now at least you were warm.

           “Thank you,” you murmured.  

           He gave a nod in acknowledgement before taking a place beside Doctor Strange.

Strange hadn’t left your side since the moment that thing had been ripped out of your body.  He stood across from you now, with his arms folded and his eyes never straying.

           “Are you sure you’re not in any pain,” he insisted.  “Demons are notorious for riding hard on their vessels.”

            _Demons._  You had been hearing that word more in the last hour than you had in your entire life.

           The thing that had been inside you, that was a demon.  It had taken control of your limbs and pushed your mind into a black cavernous hole which seemed to pull you deeper into its depths the more you fought it. It had picked part your memories as if shuffling through a catalogue, making you feel every moment with the same intensity as it had felt then. It had pulled on your muscles and bone, bending it to accommodate its shape and need. You could still feel the remains inside you.  It’s wants, and fears, and memories left a scar on your mind.  If you closed your eyes too long, you could see the world it had so desperately crawled out of.

           Your hands were shaking again.

           “Right,” you whispered.  “Demons. Of course, everyone knows that.”

           You started to rise the tea to you lips once more when you caught the sound of rustling fabric behind you.  You turned your head to catch a red cloak place itself on your shoulders.  Your eyes went wide as your heart rate spiked.  You didn’t know whether to run or scream.

           “It won’t hurt you,” Strange said, quickly.

           You stared at him in disbelief but were surprised when the cloak wrapped itself around you like a blanket. The ends of the fabric rubbed reassuring circles into your sides, nuzzling you like an affectionate cat. You started to relax again, even as your mind reeled at the idea of a sentient bit of cloth.

           “Um, thank you,” you said, speaking as best you could toward the collar.

           The cloak responded by gently nestling against your cheek before settling to a comfortable position.

           In lack of any other way to respond, you let out a strangled laugh.

           “Okay,” you said, trying to get a hold of yourself, “break it down for me one more time.”

           “You were possessed by a demon,” Strange said, in a tone which was far too calm for your taste.

           “Right,” you said. You took another breath, letting it out slowly.  “And this demon is a herald to a god called the Unnamed One.”

           “Correct.”

           You nodded.  That part you had managed to understand.  Between your profession and the fact, Thor, the literal god of Thunder, had come to earth to fight an alien invasion, the idea of pagan gods existing wasn’t a difficult concept to grasp.  It was the next leap in logic which took a toll on you.

           “And it came here because you guys, are wizards.”

           “The preferred term is Master of the Mystic Arts,” Strange corrected, sounding genuinely annoyed with the confusion.

           “So, wizards.”

           He opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Wong quickly cut him off.

           “Dorgrath was looking for something,” he said. “From what it said, chances are the piece you used to bring it to this realm was not powerful enough to summon the rest of the Unnamed One’s followers.”

           “Clearly,” you said, dryly.  You didn’t know whether Wong’s matter of fact tone about gods and demons was a good or bad. On the one hand in meant he and Strange knew what they were doing.  On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel as if you had stumbled in on some great secret every else in the world was in on besides you.

You took another sip of your tea, willing it to calm you.  The cloak gave your whole body a soft squeeze.  It was certainly odd, but you felt comforted by the gesture.

           “Can it find a way back?” you asked.

           “So long as nobody else reads the ritual aloud, I would think not,” Strange said. “Just to be safe, we should go back to the museum and collect what else we can of the statue and anything else related to the Unnamed One.  Maybe put a seal around the building as well, just to be safe.”

           You nodded in understanding.  The idea of a magical seal was still a hair away from your comprehension, but the rest you could manage.  Anything pertaining to the Unnamed One had to be contained.  The Sanctum seemed just as safe a place as any.

           “Alright.  Let’s go.”

           You rose to your feet.  The idea of being able to do something tangibly useful was enough to keep you steady. The cloak left your shoulders and you started to march towards the door.

           “Wait, where do you think you’re going?” Strange asked.  

           You stopped in confusion and turned to him. “You said we needed to collect everything from the museum.”

           “We, meaning me and Wong,” he said, slowly.

           Your brows furrowed.  You didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

           “You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

           “I think we have a better idea than you.”

           “So, what am I supposed to do?”

            “Go home,” he said. “Get some sleep and pretend this never happened.”

           His tone was gentle but left little room for debate.  You imagined, under different circumstances, the look on his face alone would be enough to convince you.

For a long moment, you stood in stunned silence. Then slowly, you began to shake your head.

           “I can’t do that.”

           “Try,” he insisted. “You don’t want to get more involved than you already have.”

           “What if I do?”

           Strange stared at you is disbelief, before shaking his own head.  “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

           “Maybe not, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

           “This isn’t a negotiation.”  

           “I can’t just forget!” you snapped.  “Don’t you understand? I’m not in Kansas anymore.  I’m in Oz. The world is in technicolor. The Wicked Witch is dead. There are ruby slippers on my feet and I can’t just click my heels three times and go home!”  

           You were breathing hard now, as your whole body vibrated by the release of pent up energy.

           For his part, Strange’s expression remained unreadable, if not a little confused.

          “Okay, bad metaphor, but you know what I’m saying,” you mumbled, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment as you realized what you had actually said.

          The man let out a long sigh, seeming to look anywhere but in your direction.

          “Look, this is my mess,” you continued. “Let me fix it.  Teach me how to fix it.”  

          He finally looked at you.  For a moment, you thought maybe you had won. He took a small step closer to you.  His eyes softened, and his mouth began to open as if to say something, but he stopped himself.  His body tensed, his lip tightened, and his head began to shake.

           “No. You have to go home.”

           He took a step back, lifting his hands and turning one of them in a circle through the air.  

           “Doctor you can’t just—”

           You couldn’t even finish your sentence as the floor literally dropped out from under you.  You fell through the air for a moment only to land hard on your back.  Looking up you saw a circle of sparking orange light revealing the ceiling of the Sanctum, with Strange standing above you.  Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, the circle disappeared.

          With an effort, you lifted yourself by your elbows.  A quick look around showed you were laying on the sidewalk just in front of 177a Bleecker Street.

          Deciding not to question it, you scrambled to your feet and bounded up the steps to the doorway.  

           “Doctor Strange!” you yelled.

           There was no answer.  You stared to pound on the door, uncaring if you upset the neighbors.

           “Doctor Strange!” you called again. “Doctor Strange, open the door!”

           Again, there was nothing.  You kept at it anyway.  You couldn’t be locked out now.  You weren’t going to let it end this way.

* * *

          Your muffled hammering made its way all the way to the Sanctum library.  A part of Strange felt guilty, but he couldn’t allow himself to give into the feeling.  He had made the right decision.

          “That was a very stupid thing to do,” Wong said.

          Strange turned to the man, with narrowed eyes.  “Excuse me?”

           “You’ve been standing by the door for weeks, waiting for that girl to come walking in, and the moment she does, you shove her back out the door.”

           “She didn’t come in,” he countered. “A demon used her as a meat suit and broke in. Or did you somehow miss that?”  

            Wong shrugged. “However, it happened.  It happened. She’s here and wants to learn.  Are you really going to turn her away?”

           “Yes.”

           He then walked away, effectively ending the conversation.

          Going down the line of shelves, he pulled random books off the shelf and started flipping through, looking for any mention of the Unnamed One.  He hoped Wong would take the hint, but he had no such luck.  

           “Why?” Wong persisted. “You saw how she was able to withstand Dorgrath’s influence. That proves a strong will. She has potential.”

           “All the more reason to say no.”  

           Wong let out a breath of frustration. “I do not understand you.”

           “She has a life out there,” Strange said, sharply. “If she goes back now, she can still have it.  She doesn’t know what she’d be giving up, or what she’d be fighting.”

           “I think she has a better idea than you did, when you came to us.”

           Strange’s brow furrowed in confusion. He looked up, finally meeting the other man’s eyes.  

          “Dorgrath opened the door to her memories,” Wong explained. “It was how he was able to find this place.  But, it’s important to understand, doors open both ways.”

          Strange’s eyes widened at the implication.  A twisting guilt settled in his stomach.  He could only imagine what Dorgrath’s realm must be like.  For that to be your introduction into this world, it was a wonder you didn’t run for the hills, let alone ask to stay.

          “It’s ultimately your decision Strange,” Wong said. “But, perhaps, you should trust her to make that choice herself.”

* * *

           You didn’t know how long you were out there. You had long since given up on knocking and had resigned yourself to sitting against the door.  Somebody had to come out sometime, it was just a matter of waiting.  

           You did your best not to close your eyes.  In the silence of the night street, all you had was your mind, and your mind wasn’t being especially kind to you. Flashes of fire, suffocating darkness, and large yellow eyes threatened to overwhelm you.  

_It isn’t real.  It isn’t even your mind. You know your own mind._

          You repeated the words back to yourself over and over again.  You were so focused on the thought, you didn’t hear the door click open behind you.

          Once again, the door gave out from under you.  You feel back into the foyer, to find yourself looking up at a floating red cloak.

           “Hello there,” you greeted.

           The cloak gave you a little wave.  You couldn’t say why, but the gesture brought a smile to your face.  

          Without prompting, it floated down and helped push you to your feet.  

          “I feel like I keep thanking you,” you said, brushing yourself off.

          The cloak merely shrugged, as if to say it wasn’t a big deal.  

           “It likes you,” a voice said.  

          You and the cloak both turned to see Strange leaning against the bannister.  His expression was much calmer than it was before, as a small smile graced his lips.

          “That’s no easy feat.”

          You glanced at the cloak, unsure of what to make of it or the statement, before turning back to Strange.

           “It’s got good instincts,” you said, with reservations.

           The cloak didn’t have a response as it floated away from you, and settled itself on Strange’s shoulders.  You wanted to ask more questions about the sentient outerwear, but there were more pressing issues at hand.

          “You aren’t going to use your portal hands on me again, are you?” you asked.

           “Actually, I used a sling ring,” Strange corrected. “And, no, I’m not.”

           A thought seemed to strike him, as his eyes darted between you and the door.

          “Have you been out there this whole time?”

          You glanced back as well, feeling a heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks.

           “Maybe,” you said, defensively. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

           “I’m starting to see that.”

           A small silence fell between you.  It didn’t hold the same tension as before.  In not so many words, you could feel Strange’s attempt to offer the olive branch.  Tentatively, you decided to test your luck.

           “Look, I’m not asking you to teach me everything if you don’t want to,” you said, carefully. “I just want to know enough, to keep myself and others safe. I’m not going to put my life on hold, but, if something like this happens again, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.  Believe it or not, I’d rather not have the apocalypse on my hands.”

           Strange didn’t say anything for a long while.  He seemed to be carding through your words, attempting to find something he could object to or rebuke. 

          You held your breath.

          Then, slowly, he let out a sigh, and nodded his head.

          “I suppose that’s fair.” He stood straighter then, meeting your gaze head on. “Alright, self-defense only. You still work on your dissertation, and you don’t quit your job.  The moment you slip behind on any of it, you’re done.  Do you understand?”

          Your brain took a moment to fully comprehend his words, thankfully your voice was in perfect working order.

           “Absolutely,” you said.  “Whatever you say.”

           Strange seemed satisfied with your answer, as he gave a look of approval.  

          A smile started to spread across your face.  A thrill you hadn’t felt in years electrified your blood as a whole new world of possibilities flooded your imagination.  

          “So, when do we start?”

           “Tomorrow,” Strange said. “You still need to go home and get some sleep.  It’s well almost one in the morning.”

           You blinked in surprise.  Was it only one o’clock?  So much had happened, the concept of time had completely eluded you.  As if waiting for reassurance it was allowed to be exhausted, your eyelids began to feel heavy along with the rest of your limbs.  

           “I suppose you’re right,” you admitted.  You started to think about how you were going to get home, when a sudden sinking thought occurred to you.

“Oh no.”

           “What?” Strange asked.

           You heart rate started to spike as you felt as if the floor dropped from under your stomach.

           “The security footage,” you said quickly.  “It caught me taking pieces from the tomb.  If anyone in the museum finds them missing, I’m going to be fired. I going to get kicked out of university.  Oh God! I could go to jail!”

           Your head was starting to go fuzzy and your breath became quickly shallow. Strange was by your side in a moment, his hands gripping your arms to hold you up right.

           “It’s alright,” he assured. He leaned down a bit, making sure you kept your eyes on him. “Hey, breath.  I’ll figure something out.  You’re not going to get fired.  I promise.”

           You took deep breaths, feeling yourself calm a little at his words.  He spoke them so clearly, it was hard not to believe him.  After a little while, you were back in control of your body.

           “Okay,” you said, with a nod.

           Strange smiled in response, but that smile quickly grew into a low chuckle.

          “Why are you laughing?” you asked.

           “Nothing,” he said, getting a grip on himself.  “I just think you were more freaked out over the idea of getting fired than the demon possession.”

           You felt as if you should had been insulted, but all you wanted to do was laugh.

           “Oh, this is nothing,” you said, dryly. “You should have seen me during finals week junior year.”

           Strange broke again, causing you to laugh as well.  You hadn’t realized just how much you had needed it.

           Eventually, Strange calmed down once more.  His eyes grew more serious as he watched your features carefully.

           “Are you alright,” he asked, in a tone which could only produce an honest response.  

           “I will be,” you assured.

           He nodded, giving you a small smile.  

           You matched it easily, feeling a peace come over you, you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.  It was then you noticed, his hands were still holding your arms. A different heat spread up you neck, as you slowly took a step back.

          “I probably should go home, though,” you said.

          If Strange had noticed the odd moment that had passed between you, he didn’t show it.  

           “Where do you live?” he asked.

           You told him the address, and a small smirk formed on his lips.  Stepping back, he waved his hands in that circular motion, opening a portal.  On the other side, was the front door of your apartment building.

           “Faster than a cab,” Strange said.

           You weren’t sure whether to laugh or be annoyed by his smugness and ended up somewhere in the middle with a smile and an eyeroll.

           “Show off.”

           The man only winked, before gesturing you to the portal.

Still not believing your eyes, you started to walk forward.  But, before you could step through, you stopped, and looked back at Strange.  

           “I’m not going to wake up in the morning and think this was all a dream, am I?”

           Strange considered your question, with an odd look.  

           “You might,” he said.  “I guess that means you’ll just have to show up tomorrow and find out.”


	6. Chapter 6

         You woke up in a haze. The light shined through your bedroom window, blinding your already bleary eyes.  

          All sense of time was lost.  It could have been seven in the morning or three in the afternoon and you wouldn’t have known the difference.  You rolled over, giving yourself time for your mind to catch up with your body.

          Everything hurt.  Not the dull throb of a hangover hurt, rather the morning after doing five hours at the gym when you hadn’t gone in six months. You tried to remember the events from the night before.  You were still in your clothes and your mouth didn’t taste of anything besides sleep. It hurt to think.  Every time you tried to remember you were instead bombarded by the images of a nightmare until reality and dreams blurred together.

          Your phone rang, forcing you from your thoughts.  You didn’t even bother to check caller ID when you answered.

          “Hello?”

          “Ms. Y/L/N.”

          You bolted upright, your mind pulling into sharp focus at the sound of your boss’s voice.

          “Doctor Lewis,” you greeted, swallowing the roughness of sleep from your throat.  “What can I do for you?”

          “I need you to come to the museum right away,” he answered in a clipped tone. “There’s been a break in.  The police need to question the entire staff.”

          It was then, everything came back to you.

          “Of course,” you said, automatically. “I’ll be there right away.”

          “Good, I expect you here in less than a half an hour.”

          He hung up before you had a chance to respond, leaving you in a stunned stupor.

          You got up and dressed in a daze. It couldn’t possibly be real.  Doctor Strange, Dorgrath, your nightmare, magic, elder gods, all of it; it couldn’t exist. But then again, you weren’t that imaginative. The images from the night before and Strange’s promise echoed in your mind, following you until you were out the door and walking toward the museum.

          Real or not, you needed a plan.  There was no telling what the security cameras picked up.  How were you going to explain what happened when you didn’t even know for certain what did happen?  How were you going to explain what it was you saw?

          You shuttered at the memory, forcing yourself forward. All you could do was wait and see.

* * *

          Two police cars were parked outside of the entrance to the Tomb.  Several of the staff were already gathered around while Doctor Lewis was talking to a detective.  

          It was an odd sight.  You had never met anyone who looked more like a stock image of an old history professor, than Doctor Lewis. He always wore a tweed jacket the same way a high school football player would wear their team letterman jacket. Well-kept white hair and bread gave the air of aged dignity paired with a British accent to allow just the right amount of presumed superiority.  It was such a cliché that having him talk to the police looked like something out of a police procedural.  Unfortunately for you, it was anything but fictional.

          “I am well aware of the state of our security,” Doctor Lewis defended.  “I still don’t see how it’s our fault we got robbed.”

          “I’m not saying that,” the detective said, in a tired tone. “I’m simply stating, I’m surprised you haven’t been robbed earlier.  None of your cameras picked up anything during the time of the robbery, and your wiring isn’t up to code.”

          It took everything in you not to audibly sigh in relief.  

          “What are you saying?” Lewis asked. “Somebody saw the lights were off and in the spur of the moment decided to steal from us?”

          “No, but it wouldn’t take much to tamper with the power, not the mention the door was unlocked.”

          Doctor Lewis jaw twitched. “Yes.  Rest assured I will give our security staff a good talking too, and prompt termination.”

          “It wasn’t their fault,” you said, calling attention to yourself.  The detective looked at you with professional interest while Doctor Lewis reminded you of your father after you stayed out late with a friend.

          Your swallowed, in an attempt to steal your sudden nerves. “I told Jimmy to leave the keys with me.”

           “You’re Ms. Y/N,” the detective asked, taking a quick look at his notes.

           “Yes sir.”

           “You were the last one to leave the museum last night?”

           “That I know of.”

           He nodded. “Ms. Y/N, where were you between the hours of 9:30 and midnight last night?”

           “ _Either going insane or being processed by a demon, yourself?”_ , you thought. But you answered with, “I was at home.”

           “Can anyone verify that?”

           “No,” you said, your stomach twisting a little. “I live alone.”

           You had the sudden wish for Doctor Strange to appear beside you.  Between the two of you, maybe you could come up with a better lie.  Just knowing someone was on your side, and an assurance you weren’t going crazy would be enough.

           “What did you do before you left?” the detective continued.

           “I was working, but then the power went out, and I got scared.” You shifted your stance, and looked down, hoping to portray the right amount of embarrassment. “I guess, I must have left the keys on the desk when I ran out.”

           You glanced up to see the detective and Doctor Lewis exchange an exasperated look which screamed: “Women? Am I right?”

           Never in your life were you so grateful for internalized misogyny.

           “Ms. Y/N, did you by chance catch a Dale Clemton on your way out?” the detective asked.

           “No, sorry.”

           “You’re not suggesting—” Doctor Lewis started, but the detective cut in.

           “He didn’t show up for work last night and he hasn’t been responding to any of your calls.  I think he’s worth looking into is all.”  The detective then turned to you, with a half-smile.  “I’m sorry to take up your time, miss.  If you think of anything, please give me a call.”

           He went to hand you his card, only to be intercepted by Doctor Lewis.

           “If any of my employees think of something, I will let you know,” he said, coolly.

           The detective knew better than to argue.  With a nod, he walked back to the police cars.

           “Disgusting,” Doctor Lewis mumbled. “Insignificant little…something or other.”  His shoulders were still tense, but he kept the rest of his choice profanities to himself.

           “If I can ask,” you said, careful to make sure his frustration remained with someone other than you. “What was stolen?”

           “Only pieces in the basement, thank God,” he answered. “Some of the Egyptian statues, a handful of Nordic ruins, and a good deal of the Assyrian collection.”

           You let out a breath. Sympathy for your colleagues aside, it did pull the spotlight off of you as a suspect.

           “Oh, I am sorry Y/N,” Doctor Lewis said, remembering himself. “Your thesis. I’m not sure how you’ll be able to finish without the pieces.”

           Your stomach dropped out from under you at that little reminder. A fresh new panic washed over you.  Right. The reason why you worked at the museum in the first place was now gone. Lovely.

           “I don’t feel it’s right for you to have to start over,” he continued.  “But given the circumstances—"

          “I’ll be able to finish!” you said, quickly.  You could feel your hands shaking.  “I’ve done so much research already.  I have all my notes compiled. I promise I can finish based on what I have. It won’t be a problem.  Please.”

          Doctor Lewis eyed you wearily, but slowly nodded his head.

           “If you say so. There are still pieces on display you can examine, and a few which weren’t stolen.  But you are certain you can finish.”

          You nodded insistently, even as your insides turned over.

          He seemed to take it at face value before letting out a long sigh. “You might as well go home.  The museum will be closed for a few days.  I expect at least ten pages on my desk by Friday since you’re not working.”

           You didn’t need to be told twice.  With a quick promise to do just that, you took your exit.  Writing would have to wait, you needed to see a Doctor.

* * *

           You bounded up the last few steps to the Sanctum Santorum, taking a pause to catch your breath.  

           As soon as you were out of sight of the museum, you had broken out into a full out sprint.  You were out of practice, but the combination of fear and excitement had pushed your forward. If you had been dreaming, and the robbery at the museum was just a coincidence, then there was a good 75% chance you were going completely insane.  But, if you weren’t dreaming.  Doctor Strange had made you a promise, and you were going to make him keep it.

           Straightening up, you raised your hand to knock.  

          The door opened before you could touch it.

           A wide smile spread across your face.  Without a second thought to the outside world, you stepped inside.

           The entry way felt brighter now.  You hadn’t realized until that point you had only seen it at night.  Light shone through the windows giving a warm glow to the wood interior.

           A soft click caught your attention.  Turning around, you saw the cloak floating there, presumably having closed the door behind you. A wave of relief washed over you at the sight.  

           “Hello, again,” you greeted.

           The cloak gave a little excited wiggle as it glided toward you, spinning quickly around your body before flying up the staircase. You let out a small laugh, taking it as an invitation to follow.  

           It was hard not to stare at everything as you walked further in.  For all you knew any tapestry or trinket you walked passed was secretly a magical weapon or ancient summoning ritual.  There idea of anything there being décor for its own sake struck you as rather silly.

           Soon you found yourself in a familiar space, surrounded by glass cases holding items of what could only be great significance.  The cloak led you forward until you were in view of a large round window with an odd, eye shape design overlooking the skyline of Manhattan. And there, with a growingly familiar half smile, stood Doctor Strange.

            “You came back.” His tone was light, but it couldn’t hide the trace of genuine surprise.

           “Did you think I wouldn’t?” you asked.

           “I wasn’t sure,” he said, honestly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

           You shrugged.  “Like I said, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

           “Clearly.” A small, almost proud smile crossed his lips. You weren’t sure why, but you felt your heart beat a little faster at the sight of it.  

           “I was called to the museum is morning,” you said, deciding not to dwell on it. “Apparently there was a break in.”

           “Oh, that’s a shame,” he said, innocently.  

           “And apparently whoever robbed us took quite a variety of items.”

           He paused, in mock thought. “Well, it sounds to me whoever broke in was just grabbing all they could find.  Not all that sophisticated.  Some of the items will probably pop up on the art market sooner rather than later.”

           A small bit of relief filled you. “Thank you. But don’t you mean, all of the items?”

           “Some,” he emphasized. “That museum of yours is a minefield of mystical energy. I’m surprised something wasn’t brought to this world earlier.”

           “Should we be worried?”

           Strange shook his head. “Wong and I put a seal around the building.  Even if something does come through, they won’t make it passed the perimeter.”

           “You make it sound easy,” you joked.

           “Trust me, it isn’t.”  

          You weren’t sure what to say to that.  Luckily, it wasn’t required as Strange took a step down towards you.

          “But, first things first.  Let me give you the tour.”

* * *

           There didn’t seem to be an end to it.  Every time you thought you had covered every inch of the Sanctum, there was another door which lead to more doors, and rooms and places you either could or could not enter.  It seemed impossible, and then you realized it probably was.

           It was all so peculiar that rooms as simple as a kitchen or bedroom felt like out of place. You said as much to Strange, causing him to laugh.

           “I’d say you get used to it, but you never really do. Luckily, this next room is nice sanctuary from it all.”  

           He led you down the hallway to a set of large double doors.  He paused in front, turning to look at you over his shoulder.  With a smirk, he pulled the doors open, revealing the largest personal library you had ever seen in your life.  

           You stepped into the room in wonder. Shelves and shelves lined the walls with even more running down the length of the room.  The only reason they stopped was for the large table in the center. There were already a stack of books and paper littering its surface illuminated by a source, you couldn’t place.

           “Impressed?” Strange asked.

           You glanced at him to see he was looking at you with an amused expression. Under normal circumstances, you would have been annoyed, but you were too enraptured to care.

           “This place has everything, doesn’t it?”

           “Not everything,” he admitted, with a shrug. “There are some books you can only read in Kamar-taj. It would also be best to practice your spell casting there as well.”

           You creased your brow in confusion. “Kamar-taj? Where’s that?”

           “Tibet.”

           “Tibet?”

           He nodded, stepping out of the room and back down the hallway.  You stood there for a moment in shock, before finally gaining your senses and followed after him.  

           “Doctor Strange, I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

           “I am.”

           “But…” You choked on all the words you wanted to say.  How could he just say “Tibet” so casually like it was taking a day trip to the country?

           “Doctor, I can’t just go to Tibet.”

           “Why not? You said, you wanted to learn.”

           He stepped through another set of doors.  You followed after him, barely noticing the small pillar in the center of the room until you almost ran into it.

           “And you said I couldn’t if it interfered with my studies here.  Do you know how much a plane ride cost?”

           “Eight-hundred and seventy-two dollars one way,” he answered.

           “Exactly!”

           “Trust me, money won’t be a problem.”  He stepped through another door, this time leading into another library. It was just as big as the last one, but the shelves were much older, and not as highly staked.  For a moment, you wondered where he could be leading you, but the immediate concern of Tibet, quickly shoved the thought to the back of your mind.

           “Maybe not for you, but it is for me,” you said.

           “What happened to not being able to afford to be broke?” he teased.

           “That’s living New York, not gathering frequent flyer miles to Tibet!”

           He didn’t say anything, continuing to lead on until you were upon another set of doors.

           “I just don’t see why I can’t just study at home,” you insisted.  

           “Why would you want to go home?” he asked. “You’re already here.”

           “What?”

           He shot you a sideways smile before placing a hand on the doorknob and opening the door.

           If the library had impressed you, this left you in awe.  

          A stone courtyard lay before you opening up into a sprawling compound designed with intricately carved wooden pillars, stone statues, and tiered rooftops. In the distance, you could see the tops of mountains surrounding you on all sides. An assortment of people ranging in age and nationality wandered through, dressed in red robes, similar to Strange. Some were simply walking by, talking with scrolls under their arms.  A group on the far end were sparing, while others were practicing, what you could only presume to be spells.  

          You stepped down feeling a chill run up your spine.  The air was cool and clean, a far cry from the clustered mugginess of New York. This wasn’t an illusion.  You were just in New York, and now, you were somewhere else.

          Slowly, you turned to Strange.

           “This is Kamar-taj, isn’t it?”

           He nodded, with that same bemused expression on his face.  You weren’t sure if it was from seeing you off balance, or if this was his way of showing off. Either way, you couldn’t really be that mad about it.

           You looked back at the courtyard as a smile spread across your face. “Y/N, you’re really not in Kansas anymore,” you said, softly.

           “Understatement,” Strange said. He took a place beside you, looking out in the courtyard.  

           “Is everyone here a wizard too,” you asked.

           “Master of the Mystic Arts,” he corrected, with only surface level annoyance. “And yes, most of them are, but some are training to be.”

           “I didn’t realize there were so many.”

           “Protecting the Earth is a full-time job, considering what else is out there.”

           The image of fire, and the contorted limbs flashed into your mind. Dorgrath, the Unnamed One; they were just the tip of the iceberg. And something told you, they weren’t even the worst of it. A different kind chill entered your veins.

          Evidently, Strange took notice, as his voice became uncharacteristically soft.  

          “You still can go back to Kansas,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

          You turned to him, slightly taken aback by how close he actually was.  His blue eyes gazed intently into yours, effectively conveying the sincerity of his words.  Oddly enough, the concern so evident in his features only cemented your resolve.

          “Not on your life Scarecrow.”

          His lip twisted up to a slight smile at your words.

          “Scarecrow?” he questioned.

          “Either that or Glinda.” You shrugged. “And I’m not sure if you can pull off pink.”

          “That’s…fair?”

          You laughed lightly, before looking out into the courtyard once more.  This morning you almost had a panic attack over possibly having to start your thesis over, and now you were signing on to fighting demons.  Maybe you were going just a little mad after all.

          “Where should we start Doctor or, should I call you Master Strange now?”

          “Doctor is fine,” he assured. “Or if you’re really feeling crazy, you can even call me Stephen.”

          “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

          He rolled his eyes at your response, before nodding his head towards the sparing group.

          “Let’s start with some basics.  Have you ever taken a self-defense class?”

          “Does fencing count?”

          “No,” he said, tilting his head curiously.  Fencing?”

          You shrugged. “It was in grad school.  Some of the Medieval history students thought it would be fun to form a club.  I got pretty good with a broad sword.”

          He nodded, looking just a little impressed by your answer.

          “That, and I wanted to be a Jedi,” you said, with a half-smile.

          “That checks out,” he said, dryly.

          You chuckled lightly, as Strange grinned at your reaction.

          “Shall we get started then, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked.

          “Lead the way Doctor Strange.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you like this, check out my tumblr @ https://shenanigans-and-imagines.tumblr.com
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you are so inclined.


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